"Don't you ever get tired of it?", she asked, concern saturating her tone.
"Tired of what?", I replied.
She looked at me with heavy eyes that pulled at my conscience.
"Of having so much hate in you, all the time".
I looked to the ground, searching the soil for something to say. Anxiously twisting the ring on my left index finger, I replied
"You feel you need happiness to live. I don't".
Her soft features fell with the gravity of my retort. She, too, looked to the earth. Not to find answers, but to gather stability. Her tone lowered and darkened like the setting sun before us.
"That must be exhausting", she said.
I gazed at the horizon's gentle glow, pondering. As this day came to a close, the darkness of the night would emerge. And after some time, our lunar guardian would, too, leave us, and thus the cycle repeats.
Gathering myself, I looked back at her, and gave my answer with a heavy sigh.
"It is"
